


Futures

by Opallene



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Family Loss, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Origin Story, Sibling Bonding, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11166723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opallene/pseuds/Opallene
Summary: After losing his mother, Clemont finds that he might have more in common with his little sister than he'd realized.





	Futures

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published on FF.net, but I wanted to add it here as well. It's clear now that there will never be a canon explanation for the absence of Clemont's and Bonnie's mother, so here you'll find the leading contender among my personal headcanons. I'll try not to say too much, but this is also my take on the origin of their relationship in the series. I love their sibling relationship with all its quirks, and I hope I've done that "origin story" justice. :')

It was a few weeks following Clemont's graduation from the Electric-type Pokémon Academy when it happened.

Clemont had returned to Lumiose City to some fanfare. He had wanted to make the expected appearances and to celebrate his achievement with the interested parties around the city – Or he had thought he'd wanted to, perhaps, but it was sometimes difficult for him to tell the difference between "want" and "obligation."

On some days he knew that he definitely didn't want to, but he still managed to convince himself that it was the proper thing to do. And so he did. Until his mother's condition took a sudden turn for the worse, and everyone agreed that it was best to put it all on hiatus to allow the family to deal with the situation.

And now Clemont was left facing that head-on. It was what everyone expected him to do, so he held vigil at his mother's bedside, clasping the small hands of his young sister Bonnie and hoping desperately that everything could go back to normal as quickly as possible.

Clemont cared greatly for his mother, but he realized that his actions now, too, were borne out of a sense of duty. There were times when he mulled over the possibility of throwing himself into the study of medicine and attaining enough expertise to make some small difference. In order to do that, he would need to spend time in isolation with all of the books, charts, and laboratory equipment he could get his hands on. And there wouldn't be time for that. Not when he was expected to stand here, helplessly, ineffectually, with his mother who was too sedated to be conscious of his presence.

These things puzzled Clemont, sometimes – The human rituals that served no practical purpose, and in fact seemed to impede any action toward solving the problems. The conferences, he was fine with: He often learned as much from others as they did from him. The dinners held some semblance of that purpose, but they were primarily for show and he preferred them less. He didn't know what to expect from a real family crisis, so he mostly just positioned himself where people told him to be, held his pain and worry inside his head, and hoped that he would eventually gain the opportunity to direct it into something productive.

When his mother finally passed, it was not unexpected. It impressed but also disturbed Clemont to realize that the preparations for that eventuality had been put into motion quite some time prior. Condolences arrived as if they'd been queued up outside the door, waiting. Flowers had been ordered preliminarily, so they arrived freshly trimmed and misted, each ribbon tied just so. Even Clemont's father seemed to have locked away a part of himself in advance. Meyer tried hard not to lose himself in front of his children, but Clemont could tell that these efforts would not have succeeded without a meticulous strategy and commitment to that outcome on his father's part.

Clemont shed genuine tears at the funeral. He held his glasses in his hands during most of it, telling himself that this was to enable the wiping away of tears with greater ease, but knowing also that he preferred not to see all of it with particular clarity. He had regrets: Had he begun his preparations earlier, perhaps he could have done something to help prevent this outcome. Had he insisted on this, instead of passively standing by, perhaps things could have been different. This was a question he knew he would have to live with.

He vowed to become as prepared as possible for all eventualities in the future.

He endlessly analyzed everything about the situation for weeks. His own reaction, and his father's. The one person that Clemont wasn't able to analyze throughout it all was his little sister. Perhaps she kept nothing hidden. Perhaps the silent stares, wells of tears and occasional childlike wails were her true feelings, and there was nothing more below the surface to see.

But Bonnie seemed changed. Clemont had never particularly understood what motivated the small girl who shared the color of his hair and eyes. Very young children cycled through a predictable range of emotions, though, and he had grown accustomed to her impromptu smiles and giggles, occasional crabbiness, and the periodic bursts of energy that carried her on padded Pokémon pajama feet from one side of the room to the other.

Now she did far fewer of those things. When she did them, it was at greater intervals and with less intensity. She went to Kindergarten in the morning. She came back. She buried her face in their mother's Flaaffy at night.

In fact, there was a general pall over the household, and Clemont found himself spending more and more time at his new workshop inside of Prism Tower. It wasn't as if the family spoke much over dinner, or spent time engaging in activities together. Those were things that their mother had driven.

Clemont didn't feel that he was abandoning them. He was helping them out in the best way he knew how: Building machines that could automate household tasks and improve their collective quality of life, of course. He made Bonnie an electric power brush for Flaaffy's fur, which worked wonderfully until some spools of electrically-charged wool became hopelessly entangled in the bristles and caused an explosion of lighting-bolt glitter.

When he created Version 2.0 and the same thing happened, a small smile tugged at the corners of Bonnie's mouth. In spite of her charred face and wild hair, she even cackled a little bit. Clemont wasn't certain whether she was laughing with him or laughing at him, but he didn't ask.

One day, Bonnie came to see him at the Tower.

Clemont's back faced the door as he carefully soldered a tiny wire. He wasn't expecting company, so he was startled when he heard something slam. Surprised, he put down his gear, pushed his protective goggles up onto his head, and turned around. The sheepish-looking girl hugging the door frame did not seem to match the force with which the door had been opened.

But upon a closer look, Bonnie's eyes betrayed a small storm that was brewing within. She hiccupped, and breathed in and out as if trying to stifle a sob. Her brows were furrowed, and she looked straight at her brother in some kind of appeal.

"Bonnie," said Clemont. "Can I…help you with something?" He removed his heat-shielding glove and set his goggles upon the table. And he waited for her to do or say something.

Bonnie continued to stare as if feeling him out.

Clemont scratched his side. And stood.

Suddenly, Bonnie burst into tears, ran into the room and clung to Clemont's torso.

Surprised, Clemont cautiously patted her shoulder and then drew her into an awkward hug.

"Bonnie? What's…wrong?"

His little sister had never come to him like this before. "Is it…about…"

"Oh, big brother!" Bonnie wailed. Clemont patted her back in silence. He hadn't really wanted to finish his sentence, anyway.

"I miss her too, you know," he managed, after Bonnie had calmed down a bit from her initial outburst.

"That's—not—" Bonnie sobbed, "Why I'm crying!"

Clemont raised his eyebrows helplessly. "You can, um…tell me about it?" he tried. He really had very little experience with younger children, particularly fussy ones. He had always prided himself in the knowledge that he had not been a particularly fussy baby. How to approach this situation, then? He was doing his best, really.

He knelt down and put his hands on Bonnie's shoulders, something he had seen his father and mother do with her before.

Bonnie brought balled fists to her eyes and wiped away tears. She looked into her brother's eyes and said, angrily, "They're making fun of me 'cuz I wasn't acting sad—about—Mom!" Tears welled up again.

Clemont scratched his head. "Come again?"

"The kids in my class! They said how come I'm not crying all the time. But I was trying really hard not to cry! (hiccup) I thought they would make fun of me for crying!" She spun around, away from Clemont's grasp, and kicked the floor. "What am I s'posed to do!?" she yelled at no one in particular.

Now Bonnie was filled with rage and kept kicking. Clemont had to stealthily remove some of his equipment from her warpath. If he was confused a moment ago, he certainly didn't know what to do now.

"Um…" he tried. "Bonnie." He still didn't have her attention. "Bonnie?"

She stopped and looked his way.

"Uh…Well…Can you- T-Try to stop kicking my stuff?"

Bonnie scowled. She gave the air one last kick for good measure and crossed her arms. "Maybe if you didn't have so much of it everywhere, all in the way and stuff…!" she grumbled.

Clemont threw up his arms. This wasn't working.

"Never mind," Bonnie muttered, walking toward the door.

"Bonnie, wait—"

"Hmm?" She looked at him, deadpan, but perhaps a little hopefully as well.

"Bonnie, I—I don't think there's a right way and a wrong way to be sad about Mom," he said.

"What would you know about it?" Bonnie snapped. "You're always up in here all alone with your robots and gizmos and stuff! You don't have to talk to any people that want you to do something this way and say something that way all the time!"

Clemont recoiled.

Bonnie could see the pain in his face, and she felt regret. "I'm sorry, big brother…" she trailed.

Clemont shook his head. "Bonnie." His voice broke a little. "I've had to deal with people like that. A lot. Even when I was at school, I had to change the way I did some things in order to meet the expectations of others."

"Well, why?" she demanded, walking closer. "Why did you have to care about what they thought?"

Clemont thought about this. "Because if I didn't, I couldn't have gotten the support I needed to finish my project. I couldn't have finished it all alone, you know."

Bonnie furrowed her brow. "Sure you could. You're really good at this stuff, Clemont."

He blushed.

"'Cept when it breaks."

Clemont smiled painfully, recognizing the truth in her words.

"No, Bonnie, what I mean is, I needed things like time, money, and materials. If I didn't get along with people, I would've had a harder time getting those things."

Bonnie looked confused.

"Now, in your case it's a little different…You weren't necessarily looking for their support. In fact, I think it was rude of them to tell you what you need to do in order to grieve properly."

Bonnie was on board with that statement. "You're right! It was rude!"

"I wouldn't have changed myself or my actions in any way that was counter to my principles or who I am as a person," Clemont continued. "And…You don't need to do that, either."

Bonnie thought about this. "Okay, yeah. But…what are principles? What is who I am as a person?"

Clemont laughed. "That's something for you to figure out, I think."

Bonnie thought even harder. She clenched her fists and tightened her lips. She started to look like she might explode.

"Ah, y-you don't have to figure it out right now!" Clemont clarified.

Bonnie relaxed. "It's just…" she began.

"Huh?"

"It's just that no matter what I do, it's not like it's gonna bring Mom back or anything."

Clemont, surprised by her candor, eventually nodded.

"Clemont, I'd do anything to bring Mom back! But I know it can't—" She looked over Clemont's shoulder at whatever he'd been working on when she'd entered. "…Can it?"

Clemont followed her gaze and started. "No, Bonnie, no…!" he waved his hands. "Of course not. …Science can do a lot of things, but that's not one of them."

"Oh," said Bonnie. "Thought so."

Clemont nodded soberly.

"So I know I can't bring Mom back, so I try to do things to help out Dad. To make him feel better. Or things for Flaaffy, like brushing its fur a lot. Or things for you, Clemont…" She looked away, uncertainly.

Clemont, suddenly guilty, searched his recent memory for any favors that may have gone unnoticed.

"Thing is, I just don't know what I can even do for you, big brother!" she stated adamantly. "All you like is inventing and stuff, and I don't know anything about science, well, except for the things I learned in school recently like the Water Cycle and the different kinds of Pokéballs and…"

Clemont smiled.

He finally understood. Bonnie was the same as him.

As she continued listing off the things she'd learned recently in class, Clemont organized his thoughts about his own little sister for perhaps the first time in his life. Bonnie's motivations were like his own: He could see that she wanted to do everything in her power to effect a positive change on the people and Pokémon around her. She had tried to avoid troubling the children at school with her feelings. She was coping with her grief by taking care of her family members. She knew her limitations, but wanted to surmount them where possible. An unexpected sense of pride swelled in him. And for the first time, he wanted to get to know his sister a little bit better.

"Bonnie," he stated. "You don't have to do anything to help me out."

"But—"

"I'm just happy that you came here to talk to me today." He walked over and gave her a hug. "In fact, I've been feeling bad this whole time because I felt powerless to do anything. But you're right. There's nothing you or I could have done. Or can do now." He paused. "I decided that I'm going to look to the future instead of the past," he declared. "You said it best yourself, just now."

Bonnie hugged back and buried her face into Clemont's arm. "I miss Mom," she said quietly.

"I miss Mom, too," he replied.

Bonnie looked around the room as she broke from the hug. "You know," she said, "Your room at home never got this messy."

Clemont shrugged. "…Mom always forced me to clean it," he said.

"You mean, she cleaned it for you!" Bonnie chided.

"T-That's not true!" he bristled. "I am plenty capable of keeping an area clean. I just choose not to."

Bonnie flat-out howled with laughter. "Nope! I've never seen you clean up your science stuff in all my life!"

Clemont rolled his eyes.

"Ah, I've got it!" Bonnie declared. "I know what I'm gonna do for you!"

"Now, I like my stuff where it is, Bonnie…You really don't need to clean any—"

"Not me, dummy! I'm not touching any of your dumb stuff!" She sailed to the doorway on springy feet. "I'm gonna find you a girlfriend! She'll clean up your stuff and keep you in line and make you a proper wife one day since you don't have Mom anymore!" She grinned widely.

Clemont froze in terror. "Wha—What?"

But it was too late. Bonnie was out the door and down the stairs, racing through the avenues of the city, with wings on her soul and fire in her eyes.

Clemont shrugged. He was genuinely happy to see her like this – And she would probably forget all about this nonsense after a couple of days, anyway.

He sat back down at his table and pleasantly lost himself again in his work. Now he had the clarity to anticipate a new situation. His next project would be a Workshop Declutterer, if it meant his sister would come visit more often. And then maybe some sort of artificial third arm that could help keep her under control in case she got out of line…


End file.
